When Dylan recovered from the shock of realizing that most of his efforts from the previous day had been for nothing—a surprise that didn't last even two seconds—he gave Haru a expressionless look and motioned for her to come in.
She had arrived in high spirits, bursting with energy, eager to show off her dedication. She expected a reaction from him: a look of surprise, a compliment, or at least a spark of envy. Instead, the words she heard next completely ruined her enthusiasm.
"Leave all that behind. You won't be needing it for now."
As he spoke, he nodded toward the backpack slung over her shoulders. Then he walked over to the dining table and grabbed one of the items he had prepared earlier: a medium-sized waist bag, which he handed to her. He told her it was better to avoid carrying unnecessary weight for what they were about to do, as she only needed a bottle of water.
A few minutes later, after warming up together with some basic exercises, they both left the house again. The goal was simple: to run around the neighborhood. Dylan wanted to observe her limits, see how far she could go, and from there, create an appropriate training plan.
Haru, for her part, accepted without complaint. A drop of sweat slid down her forehead, glistening against her pale skin, now slightly flushed from the earlier stretching. The warm-up had been enough to prepare her body, so she felt no unease or reluctance about what was coming. In fact, she was a bit disappointed.
She had expected him to teach her martial arts techniques, some kind of esoteric meditation, maybe even an eccentric task like painting his house's façade or washing his nonexistent car. But running? That was the last thing that had crossed her mind. Which was odd, considering she knew Dylan did it daily.
Still, she didn't think it was a bad way to start. She took it as a test, a first challenge—one she felt more than capable of overcoming without much effort. After all, even if she wasn't in top shape, she'd never had trouble finishing P.E. class back in high school.
'Jogging? That's it? Easy, easy~'
Or at least, that's what she thought at first.
Barely ten minutes had passed before her breathing started to falter. What initially seemed fun, almost like a game, began to weigh on her ankles. Her feet felt heavier with each step, as if the ground itself was trying to hold her back. Her lungs compressed, and sweat poured down her face like an endless cascade.
By the fifteen-minute mark, the world around her was blurring. Her shirt clung to her back, and her legs trembled like jelly. She was gasping so hard it sounded like she was about to give birth. To make things worse, her lower abdomen ached: she'd emptied her water bottle during the first stretch of the run, completely ignoring Dylan's warning to drink moderately.
Meanwhile, he kept moving forward at a steady pace. After giving her some basic instructions, he hadn't said a word. He kept jogging silently, letting her struggle on her own, waiting to see if she could keep up. This wasn't just a physical test, it was also a mental one.
And that's where Haru surprised him.
Given how long he'd known her, Dylan would've bet she'd quit in under five minutes. Her childish attitude had led him to completely underestimate her.
'Of course, the level she reached in her past life isn't something achieved by talent alone. She must've worked hard, sacrificed many things behind the scenes… It seems I underestimated her a bit. Or maybe I've been overestimating myself, comparing myself to others…'
As that thought crossed his mind, he heard Haru's faint, broken voice behind him.
"I… I can't… keep going. I give up…"
The distance between them had widened considerably, so Dylan couldn't make out every word. Still, from her tone and rhythm, he got the message. So, he answered without turning back.
"Keep going. We're almost at a resting point. Don't worry, if you pass out I'll carry you back like a princess."
It was a blatant lie. He had no intention of doing that—especially not under the blazing midday sun and with curious bystanders watching. Besides, he doubted Haru would want to be touched by him while unconscious. Still, the mere threat worked, though not in the way he expected. The idea of him carrying her while she was drenched in sweat made her grit her teeth and keep going.
Finally, after what felt like a torturous half-hour to her, they reached a small, lively park. As soon as Haru spotted a bench under a tree, she collapsed onto it. Then, she covered her face with the waist bag, trying to block the sunbeams peeking through the foliage. She didn't have the strength to do anything else.
Despite her burning legs and labored breathing, the fresh air beneath the great oak's shade brought her a sliver of relief. It wasn't enough to soothe her body, but it felt pleasant enough that she didn't want to move.
Around her, life continued at its usual rhythm. A group of kids laughed loudly as they ran up and down the slides, kicking up dirt and grass. A bit farther away, three old men played checkers using bottle caps, chatting softly with a calmness untouched by time. Dylan was still running along the park's perimeter without stopping, ignoring the state she was in; after all, he had gone through the same not long ago.
In that peaceful setting, Haru's frown began to ease. Her once-tight lips relaxed, and her head lolled to one side. Little by little, exhaustion wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. She was about to drift off when something cold on the back of her neck made her jolt.
"Ah?!" she yelped, sitting up suddenly and reaching for her neck.
Dylan, now standing behind her, was holding a couple of plastic bags dripping with icy water. They were fruit juices, the kind sold by local vendors nearby, handmade and tied off with makeshift knots around a straw.
"Here," he said, handing her one of the bags. His voice was as flat as ever, and despite the run, he barely sounded winded.
"W-what is this?"
Haru hesitated for a moment but took the bag in the end. She wanted to wait for an answer, but couldn't resist taking a sip through the straw. The moment the icy liquid touched her tongue, her eyes lit up. Then, she started drinking eagerly, until a sharp pain suddenly pierced her skull.
"Ow! Cold, cold, cold!" she groaned, pressing her temples with both hands.
Dylan watched with a blank expression, though there was a hint of amusement and quiet resignation in his eyes. It was still hard to connect this clumsy girl to the formidable person she'd once been.
"Drink it slowly," he advised, but she didn't listen.
Once her headache eased a little, she finished the drink and bit open the bag. Inside were a few ice cubes, which she started chewing lazily, rolling them around her mouth like a kid playing with candy.
It wasn't until the third cube melted that she noticed Dylan sitting beside her, sipping his own drink quietly, lost in thought.
"That was great. I've never had one of these… How much did it cost?"
"Less than a dollar."
"Oh… Do you have change? If not, I'll pay you when we get back," she smiled sheepishly. Most of her cash was in her backpack, and the only money she had on her was a couple of large bills.
He found it mildly amusing. She looked genuinely guilty over something so cheap. But he just raised an eyebrow and shook his head.
"Don't worry. I'll count it as an investment."
"Investment? You're calling me an investment? What kind of investment?"
She eyed him suspiciously. Dylan, however, didn't respond. He simply looked at her with a neutral expression—somewhere between a smile and complete indifference. Then, he stood up and tossed his empty bag into a nearby trash can.
"Ready?" he asked, offering her a hand.
She looked at him, confused, but accepted the help while tilting her head.
"Ready for what?"
"To head back. On foot, of course."
"Wait—what?! On foot?! I thought the run was all we had to do!"
"Hmm? I don't recall ever saying we were done. This was just part of the warm-up."
Haru's mouth hung open like a fish, but no words came out. Sure, she wasn't thirsty anymore, and the pain in her stomach had eased, but she was still dead tired. For a second, she seriously considered using the taser her dad had given her "in case of emergencies." But in the end, she let out a long sigh and gave up on the idea.
"Look, walking's fine… but what if, just for today, we took a taxi? I'll pay for both of us, okay?"
Her voice had a desperate edge to it, but Dylan didn't even acknowledge the plea. He just started walking ahead without looking back.
"You're so mean…" she muttered with a sigh.
Despite her complaints, she followed him, dragging her feet, shoulders slumped, her steps unsteady from the effort.